What the hell is Ramble?

In 1996, I started posting entries — rambles — on vintage japanese toys. That pre-blogging
became ToyboxDX. In 2009, we launched Incubot Productions to make
our own super-funky stuff. The Ramble is now dedicated to the behind scenes blow-by-blow of that
bizarre and utterly overwhelming process.

February 21, 2007

I get wider, slower, softer and smoother in dotage, and lo, patience — of all virtues — dulls my disposition. Wanted or not, it’s thrust upon me each instance I harden to new objects, systems, people: my mind just doesn’t bend much anymore. And like a wrinkled porn star who’s retired to “direct” as others groan and grunt their way through the scene, I settle into the idea of being someone who prefers to watch.

I’m Vic from The Rapture. I ooze into the peace of a full-time velvet robe…

* * *

I do like to think that I’ve gotten chiller in acquisition: more Warren-like, if you will, and slightly more discerning (though if you’ve had the misfortune of shopping with me, or seeing MyEbay page, you’re probably still freaked by the amount of pure bottom-barrel shit I consume as part of my daily diet.) The primary trait I always associate with Uncle Warren is spannungsbogen: patience for the dance, the veil, the seduction…the intestinal disposition to hold it all in until, burning, you finally let it rip. I’ve thought a lot about those quiet little moments he has alone with his paper bags. And while it’s taken me a few years, I’ve finally perfected a little strip-tease homage of my own.

Recipe

As your brain warms, open multiple tabs to obscure Rinkya search terms. (“Popy Figures” is a great one)

Bid on all the crap the island of Japan rejects. (Be careful: as the night blurs, so do the zeroes in the prices, and you may find converting from Yen to be an increasingly more difficult challenge.)

In 4 to 9 months (critical mass) you’ll receive a chipper email with smiley emoticons from Elaine or one of the other nice Rinkya ladies suspending your account and demanding that you execute an emergency Ship Request.

If you’ve done this right, a box the size of an oil drum appears with the Rinkya logo on the side of it. It’s filled with crap only you would want.

Now, just to really mind-fuck yourself, don’t open it just yet. If anybody asks, tell them it’s a Christmas gift. If they already suspect you’re a freak, this will settle the matter. Wait for life to punch you in the face. When you’re in your lowest low, wallowing in your quiet life of desperation, then and only then let it rip…

You will find yourself exclaiming “Hey, I really wanted that!” and you will marvel at how that nice slow pleasure that begins with the brown box arriving and ends with lifting the last styrofoam lid is force-multiplied: it’s an ecstasy assault that ends in total chaos.

The last thing I’ll throw out about aging is the ripening. It’s really a good thing. You cross from the checklisting phase into something entirely transcendent: the willingness to hunger — to starve — for the savoring of a perfect morsel…the utterly fucking delightful and unique.